


Her Price

by Ethereal_Wishes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adultery, F/M, Ogre Wars (Once Upon a Time), Peasant Belle (Once Upon a Time), Spinner Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 09:11:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19353928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereal_Wishes/pseuds/Ethereal_Wishes
Summary: After fleeing the battlefront, Rumplestilskin finds himself fighting the harsh winter cold as he trudges home to his wife and newborn son.  However his strength fails him, and he finds himself seeking shelter in a reclusive healer named Belle’s hovel.





	Her Price

Her Price

Belle French resided at the end of her quaint village, ousted by the townsfolk. Her reputation proceeded her, she was a woman which dabbled in taboo practices. It didn't stop some of the villagers from seeking her out when they desired a protection charm or a remedy for an ailing child. She had no friends, no family, and no man would ever shackle himself to the presumed town witch.

Belle considered herself a loner, and she never desired too much company. Her spell books and potion crafting gave her purpose. She was eager to help anyone in need, though she always demanded a price. However, over the last five years her clientele had declined. Most of the villagers had deserted the area, leaving in droves for another sanctuary. The Ogre Wars were raging around them, and most didn't risk staying. Only the beggars and the lame remained, other than herself.

It was a bitter winter's night when she heard the desperate knock at her door. She'd rose from her bed, wrenching open the door to find a man with hunted eyes and matted, shaggy brown locks framing his face. "Please, help me," the man rasped desperately.

"What are you doing out on such a brutal winter's night, traveler?" Belle inquired with piqued curiosity. She barred the entrance to her hovel, leveling him with a glance.

His eyes darted back and forth wildly. "I fled the battlefront. A seer told me I would die, and my wife had bore me a son. I'm trying to get back to them both, but the cold is merciless, and my leg is throbbing."

"Come in and warm yourself by the hearth, traveler. I have some warm bread and cold milk left from my supper," she supplied, granting him entry.

"You mean, you're not going to turn me away for my cowardice?" He marveled in awe.

Belle shrugged. "This war is a lost cause, it's never going to end because there's no one powerful enough to stop it. You're fairing better than all of the dead men who've needlessly lost their lives."

His countenance permeated with flabbergast. She spoke like a mad woman, but he was too overwhelmed by her kindness to care little about her political stances. He wordlessly sat by the fire as she delivered the warm bread and milk she'd promised.

"Your leg needs to be set, or you'll never walk again," she remarked, glancing at the mangled flesh.

"No one at the village hospital would help me, they sent me on my way," he added, averting his gaze sheepishly.

"It's because they're all bloody brutes," she chided. "I have some salve which would alleviate the pain and an extra pallet for you to sleep on. There's also a potion I could conjure up to aid you with sleep," she offered.

"Why are you so willing to help me?" He inquired, amazed.

Melancholy flashed within her azure depths. "Because I know what it's like to feel ostracized and abandoned. I'm practically the sole occupant left in my village, but much hasn't changed. I was only ever sought after for my magical healing abilities."

"Are you a witch?" he inquired hesitantly.

"That depends on your definition of a witch. I'd consider myself more of a healer, skilled in the art of making medicines and tonics from various plants. I've managed to work a few spells but nothing of significance," she returned.

The traveler nodded in understanding. "Thank you again," he said, finishing off the rest of his supper.

"You never told me your name," she simply stated.

A rosy blush discolored his cheeks. "Rumpelstiltskin," he remarked demurely.

"That's quite a colorful moniker, I'm Belle," she quipped, eliciting a small smile from him.

"My father gave me that name, and now it's been branded with cowardice, just as his name was," he scoffed, drinking the rest of his milk – wishing he had a stronger ale.

"Well at least your son will know his father's face, instead of merely his name. He was the reason for your sacrifice, so be the best man you can be, for him. No one else's opinion will hold the same weight, you'll find," she retorted, gathering his empty cup.

He silently observed her opening her cupboards and gathering supplies. Her declaration stunned him, and he longed to unravel the enigma, which was Belle. She'd returned moments later with a splint, bandages, and two canisters.

"You should drink this, it will ease you to sleep and help with the pain," she added, handing him a small vial of yellow liquid. He uncorked the vial, gagging at the scent of the putrid serum.

"I can't-"

"It's unpleasant going down, but the taste is far tamer than the pain I'm about to subject you to,"she warned.

He closed his eyes, pinching his nose and draining the unpleasant concoction from the vial. He pressed his mouth into his shirt sleeve to keep from gagging. Belle promptly handed him some water before leading him to a makeshift pallet on the floor.

"I'm not going to die, am I?" he remarked fretfully, feeling drowsiness numb his bones.

"Not on my watch," she affirmed, smoothing stray locks from his eyes.

Rumpelstiltskin drifted off to sleep shortly after, and Belle resumed the process of saving his shattered ligament. She was amazed at the damage, awestruck he'd managed to make it such a long distance. She worked tirelessly to mend sinew and bone, though she realized he'd always walk with a pronounced limp.

When the procedure was complete, Rumpelstiltskin had awakened in a disarray. He'd asked about his son, going home to his wife, and if the war had ended. She'd gently coaxed him into drinking another potion, which sent him back into a deep slumber.

Despite her best efforts to save his leg, it would be weeks before he could travel. The winter was harsh, and Belle made it her sole purpose to mend him.

"I wish I could see my son," he spoke despondently – one afternoon during a heavy snowstorm.

Belle patted his leg reassuringly. "Your bones have to strengthen before you're able to travel, and this winter isn't going to ease up any time soon."

Rumpelstiltskin sighed. "Aye, I just want to make myself useful."

"You could tell me a story, tell me about your wife, your life back in your former village," she requested, catching him by surprise.

"It's quite mundane," he mumbled demurely.

"It's no matter, I'd like to hear it," she reassured him.

Rumpelstiltskin swiped his tongue over his upper lip nervously, intrigued blue eyes sharp and ready to listen. "My father abandoned me as a lad, and two spinsters raised me. They taught me the trade of spinning and weaving. I was a natural at spinning and made a name for myself in our quaint village, earning the attention of several men who wished to pawn their daughters on a man with a steady trade. It's how I met Milah. She had an adventurous streak, and somehow she latched onto me. We became fast friends, and I taught her my trade. We married shortly after. We tried for years to conceive a child, but it never happened. We copulated the night before I left for the front. The fates sure have a damnable sense of humor," he grumbled despairingly.

Belle gently touched his shoulder. "So, do you love her?"

Rumpelstiltskin was taken aback by her question. "We married for convenience, and -"

"She doesn't love you," Belle surmised.

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed hard at his admittance. "No."

"So, you were the one which desired a child, desperate for someone to accept and love you as you are," she pressed, unhinging him with her deep azure pools of blue.

"Yes," he whispered hoarsely as she coaxed him back onto the cot.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice raw with emotion.

"Ebbing away the loneliness we both feel. You're stuck in a loveless marriage, and I've been sentenced to a life of isolation, because of my marred reputation," she reverberated within the darkness of the hovel.

"But you're the most generous person I've ever met," he countered, as she traced her finger down his jawline. "And you're beautiful," he shuddered as she caressed his pulse point lightly, tempted to sear a kiss there.

Belle shook her head. "People tend to be intimidated by what they don't understand."

Rumpelstiltskin reached up, brazenly brushing his lips against hers. They found a steady rhythm of kissing and touching, and he arched into her touch, hungry for more. "My wife, she was never eager to touch me as you are," he huffed between kisses.

Belle smiled against his lips. "She just doesn't realize what she has."

Rumpelstiltskin frowned in response. "I'm just a poor spinner, now I'm a crippled coward to boot. How do you think she'll respond once I arrive? There won't be any fanfare awaiting me, Belle."

She kissed away a tear which trekked down his cheek. "Then forget about her, lose yourself in my arms tonight. Let me show you how wonderful you are," she said, kissing him fervently. Being skin to skin with him was euphoric, and he worshiped her flesh as if she were a deity. She made sure to make him feel as equally cherished, branding the ravaged skin around his mangled ankle with her lips – bringing tears to his eyes.

"Belle," he moaned, feeling her drawing every last bit of shame he felt there.

"You're beautiful, Rumple, worthy of love – to be cherished. I'll never forget you as long as I live," she mumbled, rocking her hips against his. They made love in the stillness of the night – two lonely souls amidst an ocean of darkness. It was bliss and heartbreak, wrapped in isolation. Belle extracted her price from him as he filled her with his precious release.

Belle didn't request more of him, it would be unfair and simply delay the inevitable. When the snow thawed, Rumpelstiltskin was well enough to return home. He'd bid her goodbye with one final parting kiss of desperation as she sent him on his way with a bag of supplies and potions.

"I'll never forget you." He turned as he backed away from the hovel, smiling ruefully.

"Nor will I you, my sweet spinner," she returned wistfully, observing him from her doorway, until she lost sight of him.

Belle smoothed her hands over her curved abdomen. "And I'll always carry a part of you with me," she whispered to herself.

XXX

Months turned into years, and the Ogre Wars raged on. Milah abandoned him when Baelfire turned seven. She'd nary given him a second glance when he'd mysteriously shown back up that spring. As soon as he was home, she was eager to frequent the tavern and leave him at home with their boy. She reminded him daily of how disgraceful he was. Sometimes he'd allow his mind to linger back to the passionate night he'd spent with, Belle, so many years ago. He wondered how she fared, or if she still even lived in the same village.

He imagined uprooting their lives after, Milah, had left with her new lover, and starting anew. He sometimes wondered if he'd be able to convince her to go with them. Eventually, he allowed his dream to die, and Bae turned thirteen and he was ordered to fight in the ogre's war. He'd found a way to keep his boy safe, by taking on a dark curse. The wars ceased, and the duke was slain.

It's how he found his way back to her hovel. He wondered how she would react to his new form as he raised his hand to knock at her door. He wasn't expecting a tall, lanky boy to answer.

The boy blinked owlishly. "Who are you?" He studied him curiously, but didn't seem to be deterred.

"Gideon, who's-" A woman wearing a blue muslin dress sidestepped around him. Age lines permeated her features, but she was as equally as lovely as the day he'd left her. She created a barrier between him and Gideon.

She peered at him, gazing deeply into his amber orbs – unperturbed by his ghastly appearance. "Rumple? Is that you?" A flicker of recognition crossed her eyes.

"Yes, it's me, but I'm now the Dark One." He bowed majestically.

"So this was the price, to finally end the dreaded ogre wars," she whispered reverently.

Despite the surge of power flowing through him, he was still on edge. It had been many years since they'd last spoken, and he'd imagined how this moment would transpire numerous times. He found himself scrambling for words.

"Belle, I-"

"-Did you ever find your son, Rumple?" she queried without hesitation.

"Yes, he's safe at home," he added.

"What about Milah?" she continued.

He flinched at the mention of his ex-wife. "Left when Bae was seven."

Belle granted him a sympathetic glance. "And now you've come back to me."

"Yes, I wanted – needed to see you again," he stammered.

Belle curved a smile. "I'm glad you did, would you like to meet our son?"

Rumpelstiltskin's heart hammered in his chest. She gathered his hands in her own. "All magic comes with a price, and I had to extract something from you. Letting you go completely wasn't an option. I needed a piece of you I could hold onto forever," she reverberated.

The darkness demanded he get even, rip her heart from her chest for keeping something so vital from him, but he pushed it away. "Yes, I'd like that," he remarked, his accent thickening with emotion.

Belle led him into the hovel where, Gideon, had retreated. "It's time to meet your son, Rumple," she said, and the moment he stepped inside, he knew his life had changed for the better – all because he'd stumbled upon her hovel one wintry night – so many years ago.

The End

A/AN: I'm leaving the ending open-ended, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
